


Never Wanna Say Goodbye

by WinchesterWytch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 15:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWytch/pseuds/WinchesterWytch
Summary: Dean gets a late-night phone call from the one that got away.  Will it end in tragedy, or spark a new beginning?





	Never Wanna Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @crashdevlin 600 follower challenge; @Cassies600celebration. Song prompt Lips of an Angel by Hinder. Lyrics are in bold italic. This is the first fic I have ever posted online, hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Special thanks to Candice, @cleighwrites for being a fabulous beta, editor, and cheerleader.

Dean has just fallen asleep after a long hunt and an alcohol-filled evening of celebrating. When the phone vibrates on the nightstand, he doesn’t bother to look to see who’s calling. He answers with a gruff, “This better be important.”

He hears a throaty chuckle, then, “Hey, Dean.” Her voice a raspy whisper.

“Y/N?” He sits up quickly, glancing at the woman lying in bed next to him. Tossing the covers off his body, he slips out of bed and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He wonders why she’s calling him and not Sam. She’s never once called him since she left over a year ago, only Sam.

“Ple- please, don’t hang up.” Her voice is low, strained.

He hears a sob escape her lips. “_**Why are you crying, is everything okay?**_”

“No.”

“What did you get yourself into, now?” he huffs. “I told you I wouldn’t help you the next time you got yourself in a bind.”

“I know, I just… ” She takes a shaky breath. “I just really need to know something.”

“What?”

“Does she make you happy?”

“Y/N,” The edge in his voice warns her that she no longer has a right to meddle in his personal business.

“I know, but I really need you to tell me. Are you happy?”

Dean sighs, even after everything that happened, he still can’t deny her anything. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“Good.” She coughs. “That’s good. You deserve to be happy, Dean.”

He can’t stop the memories that begin to wash over him. “_**Honey, why are you calling me so late?**_” He scrubs a hand over his face, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

“I’m sorry… I… I’m sorry I hurt you. You know, I dream about you, do you ever dream ‘bout… about me?” The words come out a bit slurred. “Damn, _**it’s kinda hard to talk right now**_.”

“Are you drunk?” It would help to explain why she is calling him and not Sam.

She tries to laugh but ends up in a coughing fit. “I wish.” There’s a small gurgle in her words as she finally manages to spit them out. He knows that sound, he’s heard it many times before as it escapes the lips of the dying.

He slams his fist down on the counter and he cries, “Damn it, Y/N. What happened? Where are you?”

“A few miles out, I think. Was going to meet Sam later this morning.” He hears the car door open and she whimpers in pain. “Not enough time.”

Dean paces around the small room, a hand shoved in his hair. He bites his lower lip, trying to decide what to do.

“You’re biting those beautiful pink lips, aren’t you?” He hears her soft snicker. She always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking or doing, even if she was a thousand miles away. “Always thought you had _**the lips of an angel**_.” Dean can hear the smile in her voice. “So plump and pink, soft as clouds.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Christ, Y/N.” Yanking open the bathroom door, he makes his choice. “I need you to tell me where you are.” He frantically searches for clothes, finally pulling on jeans and a Henley that were flung across the room earlier. Stepping over his discarded boots, he yanks the door open and heads to the room next door. He doesn’t bother knocking, the flimsy door and lock are no match for the adrenaline now coursing through him. Shoving the bottom of his foot against the door, the frame splinters easily, the door swings open and slams against the wall.

Dean cautiously waits as Sam frantically grabs his gun from under his pillow and rolls over to face the intruder, yelling, “What the hell, dude?!” as he realizes it’s his brother.

Dean raises his hand, pointing to the phone at his ear then to the laptop on the table.  
“Y/N/N, what do you see?”

At the mention of her name, Sam grabs his phone, a look of confusion on his face as he searches for any missed calls or texts. Dean watches as Sam’s expression changes to one of fear, as understanding hits him that something must be seriously wrong for her to have called Dean and not him. Dean snaps his fingers to get Sam’s attention.

“It’s alright sweetheart, just stay with me okay?” When Sam finally looks at him, Dean mouths, Can you trace her phone?

Nodding, Sam jumps from the bed, quickly heads to his laptop sitting on the table, unlocks the screen and opens the app. Dean hovers over Sam’s shoulder continuing to carry on a conversation with Y/N. As soon as the maps pin pops up, Dean makes his way to the door.

“We’re outta here in five.” He throws over his shoulder to his brother.

Sam nods and begins to quickly gather his belongings.

Walking back into his room, Dean spares a glance to the woman still passed out on the bed. Normally he would be concerned that she hasn’t woken up with all the noise he’s making, but they had been celebrating earlier, and she had gotten pretty drunk. She deserves so much more than what he’s about to do, but he doesn’t have time. Writing a quick note, he places it on the pillow next to her before bending down to gently kiss her forehead. She’s been good for him, and a pang of guilt tugs at his heart before he turns away.

“Y/N/N, you still with me?” When she doesn’t immediately reply he shouts, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

“Sammy and I are on our way.” He rushes around the room haphazardly shoving his belongings into his duffle. “Hang in there, sweetheart.”

“Dean, don’t.” She struggles to take in a breath. “Don’t ruin what you have with her by coming for me. It’s… It’s not worth it, and it won’t change the outcome any-” her voice fades into silence.

“Don’t say that!” He shoves his boots on, grabs his duffle and heads to the door. Taking one last look over his shoulder, he locks and closes the door. God bless him, Sam is already waiting in the car by the time Dean makes it out of the hotel room.

Shoving the key in the ignition, Baby rumbles to life. “I’m gonna put you on speaker, okay sweetheart?” He places the phone on the seat between them before throwing the car in gear and speeding out of the parking lot down the dark highway.

“Hey, Y/N.” Sam sighs. “Tell me what happened.”

They hear her shuffling around but no response. After a few more seconds of silence, Dean starts to panic, yelling, “Y/N, please, talk to us, baby!”

“I’m so tired,” she whispers. “I’m just going to… to take a nap until you… you get here.”

The car swerves, and Sam snatches up the phone before it goes flying onto the floor. “Don’t you dare!” he yells at her. “You need to tell me about the big bad whose ass you kicked.” Sam glances at his brother and Dean nods a silent ‘thank you.’

Slamming his foot down on the accelerator, Dean white knuckles the steering wheel as he focuses his gaze back on the road. He listens intently as she struggles to tell Sam about the simple salt and burn that turned into an ambush by a demon. Her breaths start becoming more ragged, the silences between words get longer. Sam has to shout at her a couple of times to keep her awake and focused.

The sun is just peaking over the horizon when they find her car, thirty minutes later, on the side of the road. The Impala rocks as Dean slams it into park and shoves his door open, not bothering to shut it off. He rushes to her car, Sam hot on his heels. The classic Boss 9 is still running, there’s blood covering the seat, and a small puddle on the road just under the door, but she’s nowhere in sight. Dean frantically searches the horizon as Sam reaches in and turns off her car, then locks and closes the door.

Dean is yelling her name now, making his way to the front of the car, and Sam heads to the rear. Dean is the first to see her as they both come around to the passenger side. She’s sitting with her back against the front tire, her legs stretched out in front of her. Dean’s eyes rake over her body as he tries to assess the damage. There’s a large gash on her left thigh seeping blood, her left ankle appears to be broken. There’s a flannel wadded against her right side, soaked with blood and dripping into the dirt. Her head is tilted down, her hair covering her face. He begins to panic but lets out the breath he’d been holding when he hears her voice.

“You here to finish me off?” Her hand shakes with the effort to hold the gun, her finger on the trigger.

“It’s just me and Sammy,” Dean tries to keep his voice calm and comforting.

“Ha,” she scoffs. “You’re not him. Dean hates me, he wouldn’t come for me.” She tilts the barrel of the gun up as he slowly kneels beside her.

It’s now pointed at his chest, and his heart skips as he watches her finger jerk against the trigger. He shifts, trying to move out of the line of fire. He looks over her head, silently pleading for his brother to help.

Sam kneels down beside her, keeping his movements slow and his voice low as he gently places a hand on her shoulder. “Hey Y/N/N, it’s Sam.”

“Sam?” Her head rolls toward the sound of his voice like a drunken rag doll and her hair falls away from her face.

Dean sucks in a breath and Sam swallows down the bile in his throat at the sight of her now exposed face. Her right eye is swollen shut, her cheek a watercolor of yellow, green, and blues, and blood is dripping from her ear. There is a small gash above her right eye steadily oozing blood.

Her next words are a slur. “S-sorry, S-Sammy.” The gun slips into her lap, as her hand falls to her side.

“Y/N!” Dean yells, but there’s no response. He quickly looks to Sam, “Did you find the nearest hospital?”

Sam nods as he pulls out his phone. He grabs her gun with his other hand and tucks it in the back of his jeans. Dean places an arm behind her back and one under her knees, her body jerks and she screams in pain when he jostles her ankle as he stands.

He gently pulls her into his chest. “I know, I’m sorry.” He places a kiss on her forehead, carefully avoiding any injuries before he sprints to the Impala. “We’re going to get you fixed up.”

Sam already has the back door open and closes it behind them as Dean settles into the leather with Y/N on his lap. Her screams die down to occasional whimpers as Dean strokes her arm, trying to comfort her. Sliding into the front seat, Sam throws the Impala into gear and slams on the gas pedal. She moans loudly as she and Dean are shoved further back into the seat.

Pressing his forehead to hers, Dean whispers, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” His tears silently fall into her hair as he prays for it to be true.

“Sorry!” Sam cries.

“S-Sammy?” Her head flops toward the sound of his voice. He barely hears her above the roar of the engine.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He quickly glances over his shoulder, giving her a warm smile.

“Tell- tell Dean that I’m so… ” Her voice hitches as she coughs up blood. “Tell him I never… never stopped loving him.” Her voice fades on the last word and her body goes lax.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice is filled with anguish as he shakes her limp body. Bringing his fingers to her neck, he frantically searches for a pulse. Her heart is racing, and her skin feels clammy. He glances up and catches his brother’s worried gaze in the rearview mirror. “Hurry, Sam.”

Dean gently rocks in the seat, running his fingers through her hair and whispering words of encouragement in her ear. When he no longer hears her shallow breathing he, once again, searches for a pulse. Finding none, he yells at Sam, “Floor it!”

Minutes later the Impala screeches to a halt at the emergency entrance. Sam hastily stumbles out of the car, yanking open the rear door before racing into the hospital, yelling for help. Dean follows behind with Y/N lying still in his arms.

Emergency personnel quickly appear at the commotion. An orderly takes her unconscious form from Dean and places her on a gurney, rapidly wheeling her towards a room. “What’s her name?” he asks as the brothers follow alongside, Dean clutching her hand.

“Sarah Holloway.” Sam gives them her alias. He flashes his FBI badge quickly adding, “This is her fiancé, Dean Smith.”

“What happened?” The doctor asks as he shoves Dean out of the way so they can start CPR.

Once again, Sam is the one to respond, Dean too stunned to speak. “She was beaten and stabbed. There’s a gash on her left thigh and stab wound on her right side. I don’t think any organs were hit. Her left ankle is broken, she has a contusion on her right cheek and a small gash above her left eye. She’s lost about two pints of blood. She was awake and responsive until about fifteen minutes ago when she passed out. She stopped breathing about four minutes ago.”

A little shocked, the doctor nods in appreciation at Sam’s thorough explanation. He looks to the orderly telling him to remove the brothers from the room. Dean refuses to let go of her hand and has to be physically forced from the room by both Sam and the orderly.

* * *

* * *

She scrunches up her face at the incessant beeping. There’s a dull ache throughout her entire body, her left hand is hot, something heavy weighing it down. Her eyelids are heavy as she struggles to open them. After several attempts, she finally manages to keep her left eye open. Her right eye hurts and she’s barely able to open it more than a crack. Looking around the room, her gaze falls to her left side, landing on the source of the heat and restraint on her hand.

Dean’s hand is clutching hers, his head resting on their clasped fingers. She slowly moves her fingers, trying to squeeze his hand. When he doesn’t move, she tries calling his name. All she can get out is a raspy grunt. Her throat hurts, her voice hoarse from disuse.

Concentrating on the muscles in her hand, she wills them to squeeze his, brushing them across his cheek with the effort. Dean jerks upward, eyes wide as he stares at her. The realization of the situation hits her, and a tear runs down her cheek as she stares back into his gorgeous green eyes. He is here, she is alive, and he had come for her.

She tries to speak again, “D… ” Clearing her throat, she licks her cracked lips, and finally whispers, “Dean.”

“_**It’s really good to hear your voice saying my name.**_” The smile that spreads across his face is blinding. “**_It sounds so sweet._**” He lets go of her hand, bringing his thumb up to brush away the tears on her cheek. His brilliant smile quickly disappears though with her next words.

“Why are you here?” She coughs, trying to clear her dry throat again.

Standing, he grabs the cup of water from the bedside cabinet bringing the straw to her lips. He watches as she takes a few sips, placing it back on the cabinet before saying anything.

“Y/N… ” He scrubs his hand down his face and turns away.

She watches as he hunches his shoulders, taking a couple of deep breathes. She knows he’s struggling with what to say. Dean always has a hard time expressing his feelings. It was one of the reasons that they had drifted apart. Her heart aches for him, she wants to say something to comfort him, but she’s terrified of being hurt again, so she remains silent.

When he finally turns back toward her, his eyes are shimmering green pools, full of unshed tears. “**_Sometimes I wish she was you._** I never stopped loving you.” He smirks, and a tear falls down his cheek. “_**Girl, you make it hard to be faithful. And, yes, I dreamt of you too.”**_

She lets out a choked sob, squeezing her eyes closed, trying to hold back the flood of tears. Opening them again, she lets out a heavy sigh. “Dean, we can’t. We can’t go back to the way it was.”

“I know, and I don’t want to.” His voice is raw, filled with emotion. “I left her.”

“Dean… ”

Clasping her hand, he brings it to his mouth, placing a kiss on each of her knuckles. “The moment I heard your voice over the phone, I knew. I knew, that I was never going to let you go again. When I thought I lost you, it scared the hell out of me.” Sitting on the bed next to her, he brings her hand to his chest, pressing it against the beat of his heart. “**_And I never wanna say goodbye._** Not now, not ever.” They are both crying now, she can feel his heart racing underneath her palm. His eyes search hers, silently pleading.

“_**I guess we never really moved on**_, did we?” She brings her right hand up to cup his face, her thumb brushing across his lips and whispers, “**_The lips of an angel._**”

Dean chuckles as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to her waiting lips.


End file.
